Released (Caged #3)(53)

“How so?”

“She just is. She was like that in high school, too. I think Ryan saw her as a beast to be tamed. They had an on-again, off-again relationship from about freshman year until three years ago. They got married last winter.”

“But you didn’t approve.”

I shrugged.

“I guess I don’t care, really,” I said. “Ryan loves her, so I guess that’s the part that matters. He says she loves him, too, and I guess that’s probably true. I still think she loves the money as much as anything.”

“You walked away from the money,” Erin noted.

“I made enough fighting,” I replied nonchalantly. “Well, I guess I’m making more now, but it’s not the same. Fighting was…”

“Was what?” she asked when I didn’t finish.

“Cathartic, I think. Yeah, that’s probably the best word for it. I liked fighting.”

“Why did you stop fighting?”

“Well, I kind of got kicked out, for one,” I reminded her.

“You were removed from cage fighting at one bar, Liam. There are plenty of gyms where you could practice boxing or other fighting arts. Have you looked into that?”

“I didn’t really think about it.”

“Fighting isn’t unhealthy,” Erin said. “It’s a good outlet for your aggressions.”

“Tria doesn’t like it.”

“Tria doesn’t like you making a living getting beat up,” Erin corrected. “This wouldn’t be the same. Why don’t you talk to her about it?”

“I don’t want to upset her.” I shrugged once. “She always freaked out when I came home beat up, and she’d get upset when I just had a black eye or a particularly nasty bruise.”

“Do you think fighting in a cage with random people who are trying to make a show of a blood sport is the same as putting on a pair of gloves and boxing with a trainer?”

“No.”

“Then why do you think Tria would see them the same way?”

“Fuck you,” I muttered.

Erin leaned forward in her chair.

“May I make an observation?” she asked.

“Since when do you ask for permission?” I countered.

She nodded.

“The first words out of your mouth every time I make a point you secretly agree with are ‘f*ck you.’”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s your second response to the same thing.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaned back on the couch, and glared at her.

“And predictable number three,” Erin said with a smile, “silence.”

I was about to roll my eyes, but I had a pretty good idea that the number four was going to come into play if I did.

Four! Four ways of avoiding the truth! Ha! Ha! Ha!

I was never one to give up, but I finally admitted she was right.





Chapter 14—Release the Pressure


“Tria? Can I ask you something?”

It had been far too warm, cozy, and comfortable in the bed to ruin the moment as I was about to do. Then again, there was probably never a good time. I rubbed my forehead against her shoulder and pulled her closer to me. She smelled good.

“Of course,” she responded.

“Do I…?” I hesitated. Talking about it with Erin wasn’t easy, but it was more abstract. Saying it out loud to Tria made it real.

“Do you what?” Tria asked. She shifted around and lifted her shoulder slightly so I had to look up at her.

I glanced at her face once and then dropped my eyes. I dropped my hand as well and covered the slightly rounded bump at her abdomen. Sighing again, I glanced around the room and wondered why it didn’t occur to me to go with all the stall tactics before I opened my mouth instead of afterwards.

Tria poked me until I started talking again.

“Do you think I…?” More hesitation. I smashed my lips together, furrowed my brow, and tried to find the perfect phrasing. There wasn’t any, of course, so I chose the worst and blurted it out. “Just how big of an * am I?”

“What kind of question is that?”

I shrugged.

“I am an ass,” I stated.

“Sometimes.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why are you asking this?”

“Something Erin and I talked about,” I said. More hesitation from me caused Tria to give me a bit of a shove.

“Erin called you an *?” Disbelief colored Tria’s words.

“Not exactly.”

“What is this all about?” she asked as she turned a little to get me to look at her.

“Do you…do you think I…you know…hide from shit?”

“What do you mean, ‘hide from shit’? Hide from what?”

“The truth,” I said with a shrug. I couldn’t look at her anymore, so I pressed my face into the side of her neck and looked out over her collarbones.

Tria trailed her index finger up the center of my back, across my neck, and up to my temple. She shifted a little, sighed, and turned her head toward mine.

“When someone says something you don’t want to hear, you like to avoid it, yes. When it’s something…big…and you can’t hit it, you run from it.”